My eyes always look a little too large for my face, but I prefer to wear minimal makeup and usually just put on a little mascara and lip balm.

“Maybe a little eyeliner?” I say, still unsure.

With a smile, she hands me three pencils: one purple, one black, and one brown. I roll them around in my fingers, deciding between the black and brown.

“The purple will look great with your eyes,” she says, and I smile but shake my head. “Your eyes are so unique—want to trade?” she jokes.

But Steph has beautiful green eyes; why would she even joke about trading with me? I take the black pencil and draw the thinnest possible line around both eyes, earning a proud smile from Steph.

Her phone buzzes and she grabs her purse. “Nate’s here,” she says. I grab my purse, smooth my dress, and slip on my flat, white Toms, which she eyes but doesn’t comment on.

Nate is waiting out front of the building, heavy rock music blaring out of his car’s rolled-down windows. I can’t help but glance around to see everyone staring. I keep my head down and just as I look up, I see Hardin lean up in the front seat. He must have been bending down. Ugh.

“Ladies,” Nate greets us.

Hardin glares at me as I climb in behind Steph and end up getting stuck sitting directly behind him. “You do know that we are going to a party, not a church, right, Theresa?” he says, and I glance at the side mirror and find a smirk across his face.

“Please don’t call me Theresa. I prefer Tessa,” I warn him. How does he even know that’s my name? Theresa reminds me of my father, and I would rather not hear it.

“Sure thing, Theresa.”

I lean back against my seat and roll my eyes. I choose not to banter back and forth with him; it’s not worth my time.

I stare out the window, trying to drown out the loud music as we drive. Finally, Nate parks on the side of a busy street lined with large, seemingly identical houses. Painted in black letters is the name of the fraternity, but I can’t make out the words because of the overgrown vines sneaking up the side of the massive house in front of us. Messy strings of toilet paper sprawl up the white house, and the noise coming from inside adds to the stereotypical frat house theme.

“It’s so big; how many people will be here?” I gulp. The lawn is full of people holding red cups, some of them dancing, right there on the lawn. I’m way out of my league here.

“A full house, hurry up,” Hardin responds and gets out of the car, slamming the car door behind him. From the backseat, I watch as multiple people high-five and shake Nate’s hand, ignoring Hardin. What surprises me is that no one else that I see is covered in tattoos like he, Nate, and Steph are. Maybe I can make some friends here tonight after all.

“Coming?” Steph says with a smile and pops open her door and hops out.

I nod, mostly to myself, as I climb out of the car, making sure to smooth my dress again.

Chapter seven

Hardin has already disappeared into the house, which is great because maybe I won’t see him again for the rest of the night. Considering the number of people crammed into this place, I probably won’t. I follow Steph and Nate into the crowded living room and am handed a red cup. I turn to decline with a polite “No, thank you,” but it’s too late and I don’t have a clue who gave it to me. I put the cup on the counter and continue to walk through the house with them. We stop walking when we reach a group of people crowded on and around a couch. I assume they are friends with Steph, given their appearance. They are all tattooed like her, and sitting in a row on the couch. Unfortunately, Hardin is on the right arm of the couch, but I avoid looking at him as Steph introduces me to the group.

“This is Tessa, my roommate. She just got here yesterday so I figured I would show her a good time for her first weekend at WCU,” she explains.

One by one they nod or smile at me. All of them seem so friendly, except Hardin, of course. A very attractive boy with olive-toned skin reaches out his hand and shakes mine. His hands are slightly cold from the drink he was holding, but his smile is warm. The light reflects off his mouth, and I think I spot a piece of metal on his tongue, but he closes his mouth too quickly for me to be sure.

“I’m Zed. What’s your major?” he asks me. I notice his eyes travel down my bulky dress and he smiles a little but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m an English major,” I say proudly, smiling. Hardin snorts but I ignore him.

“Awesome,” he says. “I’m into flowers.” Zed laughs and I return one.

Flowers? What does that even mean?

“Want a drink?” he asks before I can inquire further about flowers.

“Oh, no. I don’t drink,” I tell him and he tries to hide his smile.

“Leave it to Steph to bring Little Miss Priss to a party,” a tiny girl with pink hair says under her breath.

I pretend not to hear her so I can avoid any kind of confrontation. Miss Priss? I’m in no way “prissy,” but I have worked and studied hard to get where I am, and since my father left us my mother has worked her entire life to make sure I have a good future.

“I’m going to get some air,” I say and turn to walk away. I need to avoid party drama at all costs. I don’t need to make any enemies when I don’t have any friends to begin with.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Steph calls after me.

I shake my head and make my way to the door. I knew I shouldn’t have come. I should be in my pajamas curled up with a novel right now. I could be Skyping with Noah, whom I miss terribly. Even sleeping would be better than sitting outside this dreadful party with a bunch of drunken strangers. I decide to text Noah. I walk to the edge of the yard, since it seems to be the least crowded space.